Hallucinogenic Philosophy
by DracoNako
Summary: Willow wakes up with her lighter and the clothes on her back and just wants to set shit on fire. However, there's also the deal with how she ended up in the middle of nowhere. She'll have to think quick in order to survive in this new world. [Told in a diary format. Might have a sister story eventually that's actually wrote in novel form, but I don't have the time for that]
1. Day 1

_Don't Starve doesn't belong to me. Obviously._

 _Frequent language. Potential violence. Insanity. I pull no punches._

 _First story hyyyyyype!_

* * *

 _Day One - In Which A Lighter and Some Sticks Don't Really Mean Shit_

I don't know why I'm awake. I don't know where I came from and I don't know where I'm going. All I know is that my name is Willow - no last name, apparently - and that I possess a lighter... and that the trees all around me look like potential burn victims.

My fingers are twitching. I'll need to light something up soon.

So far I've a bundle of sticks and two lumps of coal in my possession. I'm writing in the dirt with one such twig, which I'm only beginning to realize is probably ineffective. Who am I writing to? The voices in my head? God? Does God even exist?

At this point, I don't really know. All I can remember is a man with slicked-back hair and a name that's not my own: Maxwell.

If anyone out there is reading this, please enlighten me. Who the fuck is Maxwell?

I'll be moving from this spot tonight, so your answer will probably be ignored. But for the sake of my crumbling sanity, please. Leave an answer and hang it to a tree or something.

I must move on. It's growing dark and I need to light a fire... and soon.

-Willow


	2. Day 2

_Don't Starve doesn't belong to me. Obviously._

 _Frequent language. Potential violence. Insanity. I pull no punches._

* * *

 _Day Two - In Which Talking to Myself is Obviously Ideal_

I'm still Willow. I'm still in a place unknown, going places even more unknown. I still don't know who Maxwell is.

I don't know what fucking direction I'm going. I _do_ , however, know that it's in one direction. I've been dropping sticks periodically as I go.

In hind-sight, such an action is probably not the smartest one.

But hey, now I have rocks in my roster as well. Everyone loves rocks. I made an axe with some and was able to cut some trees down. Now I have more coal and some logs, which means I can make a campfire tonight.

That's a good thing. I absolutely _detest_ the dark.

It feels like today is longer than yesterday was. That should be impossible.

I'm hungry as ever and I haven't found much in terms in food. Even the bark off the trees is starting to look appetizing. At this rate, the only thing stopping me is the fact that I found one tree in particular to look unnerving... It's got a face on it. Some branches look like arms. I feel like it could rise from its earthy resting place at any moment and come after me...

Dwelling on such thoughts are not healthy.

In any case, I've avoided the trees since seeing the _one_. I suppose I should name it, but I'm going to move on after tonight, so I'm not sure giving it such a privilege is worth it to me.

This entire situation is shitty. I wish I could remember where I'm from. I wish someone would tell me how the fuck I got here. If both of these wishes could be fulfilled, I'd be one happy girl.

For now, all I have is some sticks, an axe, two lumps of coal, and a lighter. And myself, I guess.

It's quite lonely. I sincerely hope that I'm not alone.

If you exist, please let me know. And please inform me of this "Maxwell" person. I've only seen one person since arriving in the wilderness and it's unnerving... Knowing the identity of the only other person in this area would help.

It stands to reason that if I keep walking, I should get to civilization eventually, right?

I don't know.

I seem to not know much anymore. It's concerning.

It's getting dark again. Red mushrooms are curling in on themselves and green ones are rising in their stead. Is this a normal thing for them to do? I haven't touched them yet... While I don't remember where I'm from, I've seemed to retained whatever knowledge I've gained. Common sense tells me not to touch strange mushrooms.

My handwriting looks like chicken scratch. My apologies.

I swear I see moving shadows. The forest around me looks like it's full of monsters. I must go now and prepare a camp fire. I need to gather strength for tomorrow... If I don't keep moving, I'll never understand anything.

Please don't let me be alone...

Please let me find paper, too. Writing on dirt is exhausting.

-Willow


	3. Day 3

_Don't Starve doesn't belong to me. Obviously._

 _Frequent language. Potential violence. Insanity. I pull no punches._

* * *

 _Day 3 - In Which Loneliness and Insanity Are Not Too Far Apart_

The night felt too short last night, and yet I was not unhappy. Today feels too long already, and the sun hasn't even set yet. I ended up in the midst of a marsh this morning... got scratched rather badly. Vines are heavier than they look, and they aren't as combustible as one would like.

But I found some ingredients to finally make paper. Not all is lost.

I'm preserving what I can right now. Berries are plentiful, the days are long, and I'm not at a loss for kindling. But that could change tomorrow morning when I wake up, so I can't afford to be frivolous.

All that remains to tell me where I've been are my muddy footprints. Even those will disappear soon enough.

I'm tired already. My tongue feels pasty and I can't shake the unbearable paranoia threatening to flatten me.

Something is out there. What is it? And where has Maxwell gone?

I cannot dwell any longer. I must go now and prepare for night to fall.

-Willow


	4. Day 4

_Don't Starve doesn't belong to me. Obviously._

 _Frequent language. Potential violence. Insanity. I pull no punches._

* * *

 _Day Four - Over the River and Through the Woods... to a Village of Pigs I Go!_

Today makes four days. Ninety-six hours of waking, walking, eating, and resting. A cycle all on its own. The only thing breaking the monotonous habit is how, despite this constant repetition, each day has been its own. Each day has had its own ups and downs. Each day has had its own unique flavoring.

Today, I found what I now believe is a village. A horde of pig people live here, each in their own strange cabins. They won't allow me inside any of them - hell, they won't let each other in, either - and they are passive-aggressive at best. Some speak in broken English and some don't speak at all, which prompts me to wonder just who it was that taught them to speak... and why.

They kept asking me for food. A couple also nudged me in the direction of one pig person... much larger than the rest. It's got to be the size of a small hill, at least. They call it the Pig King, and he wears a crown, so he's obviously someone special to them. He didn't say anything to me. But then again, I didn't say anything to him, either.

There's a lot of graves around this area. There have been humans that came before. Creepier still, I've come across unburied skeletons. Not even the pig people want to touch them. They gave me cross-eyed looks when I approached the corpses.

But, as untrusting as these creatures seem, they still drew near and asked me for food later on.

For right now, I have several small bundles of berries, six carrots, a half-broken axe, ten rocks of varying sizes, some sheets of papyrus, my trusty lighter, and several small lumps of coal. I've whittled the coal down to almost nothing, using it all to document my adventures (or lack thereof).

My fingers are itching something fierce. Perhaps I should go soon and light a fire... but the pig people seem to fear such a thing. Or at least, highly revere it.

In any case. Dusk is falling. Shadows are growing (and moving). My lack-luster diet is giving me a plethora of digestive issues. I am moving places unknown to places even more unknown, and I don't even know what for.

Perhaps I will set a sort of "permanent" camp here with the pigs. They aren't too terrible a company and despite us being so close to a spider den, the pigs seem unafraid. I'm sure they'd fight, if prompted.

But then again, they would probably also come after me should I provoke them. I think it's best to leave this theory untested.

It's almost too dark to see. The shadows' movements are sporadic now... I must get to a light source now.

-Willow


	5. Day 5

_Day Five - Spider Webs and Machine Parts_

I found a pile of cracked stones today, which all converged when I touched them. I don't know what this did, but a weird sensation filled my stomach as the stones merged together before my eyes... A weird sort of... connection, almost. Like a part of myself was sucked into those stones - well, _stone._

In other news, I found a weird crank today, too.

I've set up temporary camp by a nest of spiders. They're making noises as I speak.

Still no sign of Maxwell. Still no idea why I'm here.

These spiders are wigging me out... It's making me anxious.

-Willow


	6. Day 5 - ?

***The paper is charred around the edges, like someone decided to set it on fire but changed their mind half-way through. The middle of the page is too scorched to read.  
*You read the entry anyway.**

 _Day ** - [no title given]_

SPIDERS

EveRYWHeRe

WHERE do they COME FROM?

whY ARe thEy tAlKiNg?

MAXWELL is wAiTinG


	7. Day 8

_Day Eight - Mental Stasis_

I grew peckish a couple of nights ago and ate the scant few mushrooms I'd managed to harvest... This was a gigantic mistake. As it turns out, each of the three kinds hurt me in some form or another and the green ones had the largest effect on my sanity.

I can't remember much...

The air still carries a hint of smoldering trees and grass. I'm surrounded by spider corpses. In my hysteria, it appears I burned everything I could get my hands on...

I don't know where the pig village is anymore. Nothing looks familiar. Everything is charred and black or missing or dead. All that's left is corpses... and a mysterious bone stuck to the ground nearby. I must continue on...

"Maxwell is waiting"... what was I talking about?

-Willow


End file.
